Chapter 26 #2
Interesting.
“What’s your name?” Dane asks quietly.
“Rohan,” the young man replies, not pulling away from Dane’s supporting touch.
“Well, Rohan,” Dane says with a small smile, “let’s get you somewhere safe.”
“Where are the seers?” I ask the lynx woman. “I’m looking for a fear-seer named Prudence?”
The lynx shakes her head grimly. “They moved her three days ago. Took all the high-value targets—they took them to another facility.”
My heart sinks. “Where?”
“North,” Rohan says, his voice growing stronger as Dane helps him stand. “I heard the guards talking. Some kind of compound in the mountains, heavily warded. They called it the Sanctum.”
“I know that place,” one of the other rescued prisoners adds—an older witch with silver-streaked hair and calculating eyes. “It’s where they take the ones they don’t want found. Ever.”
Lithia and I exchange grim looks. Prudence is still out there, still suffering, but at least now we know where.
“Lithia,” Levi’s voice crackles through our earpieces from deeper in the facility. “I’ve found their command center. Maps, communications, the works. And you’re not going to believe what they’re planning.”
“Collect what you can,” Lithia orders. “We need to get out of here.”
“Extraction time,” I announce, though we’ve barely begun to search the facility. “Let’s go everyone.”
“There’s a warded storage room,” Rohan says urgently, still leaning against Dane for support. “Two levels down, past the guard station. That’s where they keep the important documents.”
“Dane, get these people out of here,” Lithia orders. “Kier and I will deal with the intelligence.”
We move quickly through the facility, following Rohan’s directions while our rescue teams shepherd the freed prisoners toward the exit routes.
The sound of approaching vehicles grows louder—reinforcements that will arrive too late to stop our escape but in time to make it significantly more dangerous.
“Got it!” Levi’s voice carries triumph as we reach the command center. He’s stuffing folders and hard drives into a waterproof pack. “Facility locations, guard rotations, prisoner manifests.”
There’s a map on the wall and I study it, memorizing the key details. The scope of this is staggering. If the map’s to be believed, there are facilities like this all over the world. Hundreds, if not thousands of prisoners, a trafficking network that spans the entire supernatural community.
Explosions echo from the direction we came, followed by the staccato chatter of automatic weapons. Our exit routes are under attack.
“Time to go!” Lithia shouts over the noise. “Levi, pack it up. Everyone else, move to the alternate exit.”
We reach the service tunnels just as pursuit catches up with us. Silver bullets spark off tunnel walls as enhanced guards pour fire into our escape route, forcing us to move in short rushes between cover points.
“Kier!” Lithia’s warning comes just as I spot the muzzle flash—a guard with a clear shot, rifle trained on center mass, finger already contracting on the trigger.
I throw myself sideways, tackling Lithia to the tunnel floor as the silver bullet burns through the space where she’d been standing. The round catches me instead—not center mass, but high on my left shoulder, the silver core punching through muscle and bone with agonizing precision.
“Fuck!” The pain is immediate and overwhelming, silver poisoning flooding my system as the bullet lodges against my shoulder blade. My vision grays at the edges, wolf strength draining away like water.
“Kier!” Lithia’s voice, sharp with panic and fury. She rises from beneath me, shadow silver blade already in motion, throwing with deadly accuracy. The guard who shot me drops with her knife buried in his throat.
“I’m fine,” I manage through gritted teeth, though we both know it’s a lie. Silver bullet wounds don’t heal quickly, and the poison is already making my limbs heavy. “Keep moving.”
“Like hell,” she snarls, hauling me to my feet with surprising strength. “Levi! We need cover”
He lays it down as Lithia half supports, half drags me to the exit.
We emerge from the tunnels into the pre-dawn darkness, our extraction vehicles waiting with engines running. The witches have warded our escape route with concealment spells, but those won’t last long against determined pursuit.
“Home,” Lithia orders as she helps me into the back of an armored truck. “Hurry.”
As our convoy pulls away from the burning facility, I catch a glimpse of Rohan and Dane sharing the back of another truck. The warlock has finally collapsed from exhaustion, his head resting against Dane’s shoulder while the twin keeps protective watch.
Lithia’s hand finds mine in the darkness, her fingers interlacing with mine despite the blood and silver poisoning.
“Stay with me,” she whispers. I can hear her fear.
“Always,” I manage to whisper back.
Always.
The journey back to Shadowmist territory passes in a haze of pain and silver-induced delirium. I drift in and out of consciousness, vaguely aware of Lithia’s voice keeping me anchored, her hand never leaving mine.
When we finally arrive at the den, Elena and her medical team are waiting with a fully equipped surgical bay. The silver bullet comes out in pieces, each fragment burning like liquid fire as it’s extracted from my shoulder.
“He’ll be fine,” Elena assures Lithia as she stitches the wound closed. “No major damage to bone or arteries. The silver poisoning will take a few days to clear his system, but he’s young and strong.”
“Thank you,” Lithia says quietly, and I can hear the relief in her voice.
I drift back to consciousness sometime later to find myself in a medical bed, my shoulder immobilized but the agonizing burn of silver finally gone. Lithia sits beside me, her pale blue eyes showing exhaustion and worry.
“How do you feel?” she asks when she sees I’m awake.
“Like I’ve been shot,” I reply, managing a weak smile. “But alive. How did the other teams do?”
“Successful extractions at both facilities. Thirty-seven prisoners rescued in total. No casualties on our side beyond your wound.” Her expression darkens. “But Adelaide and Prudence weren’t at any of the sites.”
“That lynx said they’re at something called the Sanctum?”
“We’ll find them,” she promises fiercely. “This was just the beginning.”
I shift position slightly, testing the limits of my mobility. The shoulder is stiff and sore, but functional. “What about the intelligence Levi gathered?”
“Still being analyzed, but it’s extensive. Facility locations, operational plans, financial records. It’s enough to start dismantling their network.”
She catches my hand, her fingers trembling slightly as her thumb grazes across my palm. The simple touch sends electricity up my arm, but it’s the vulnerability in her eyes that nearly undoes me.
“Kier, when that guard took aim at me…” Her voice wavers, barely above a whisper.
I turn my hand over, catching her fingers with mine. “I wasn’t going to let him hurt you,” I say simply, though the memory of that moment—seeing the rifle trained on her, knowing I had seconds to act—still makes my chest tight with panic.
“You could have died.” The words come out strangled, like they’re being torn from somewhere deep inside her. “The bullet hit bone, Kier. A few inches lower and it would have severed an artery.”
“Better me than you.”
She stares at me, and I watch emotions war across her face—disbelief, gratitude, something that looks dangerously like love before fear chases it away. Her pale blue eyes search mine like she’s trying to solve a puzzle.
“Why?” The question is barely audible, but it hits me like a physical blow.
The question hangs between us, loaded with implications neither of us has been ready to acknowledge. But lying here, her hand in mine, silver bullet wound still aching in my shoulder, having nearly lost everything that matters—pretense seems not just pointless but cruel.
My throat works as I struggle to find words equal to what’s burning in my chest. Three years of isolation taught me to survive on scraps of hope, but this woman gave me something to live for. The thought of losing her, of a world where she doesn’t exist, makes something fundamental inside me rebel.
“Because I love you,” I say quietly, each word deliberate, weighted with everything I’ve been too afraid to voice. “Because a world without you in it isn’t one I want to live in.”
Her breath catches audibly, pupils dilating until they nearly swallow the silver of her irises. I watch the words hit her, see the way they make her entire body go still except for the rapid flutter of her pulse at the base of her throat.
“Kier—” My name comes out as barely a breath, full of wonder and terror in equal measure.
“I know you’re scared,” I continue, needing to say this while I have the courage, while the nearness of losing her still burns fresh in my memory.
My free hand comes up to cup her cheek, thumb tracing the scar that runs from temple to jaw.
“I know you think caring about people means losing them. I know you’ve built walls so high even you can’t see over them anymore. ”
Tears gather in her eyes—the first time I’ve seen her cry since our escape. “Everyone I’ve ever loved has been taken from me,” she whispers, her voice breaking. “My parents, and now almost—” She can’t finish the sentence.
“But I’m here,” I say firmly, pressing my forehead to hers. “I’m here, and I’m not going anywhere. You couldn’t get rid of me if you tried.”
A sound escapes her—half laugh, half sob. “You don’t know that. You can’t promise that.”
“I can promise that I’ll fight like hell to stay.
That I’ll choose you, every day, for as long as I have breath in my body.
” My voice grows rougher with emotion. “I can promise that loving you is the easiest thing I’ve ever done, even when you make it difficult. Especially when you make it difficult.”
The tears spill over now, cutting silver tracks down her cheeks. “I love you too,” she whispers, the admission torn from somewhere deep. “Gods help me, I love you so much it terrifies me.”
The words hit me like lightning, like coming home, like every prayer I never knew I was making. My chest swells with something too big to contain, and I have to close my eyes against the intensity of it.
“Say it again,” I whisper, desperate to hear it, to believe it’s real.
“I love you.” Her voice is stronger now, more certain. “I love your stubborn refusal to give up. I love how you see the best in everyone, even when they don’t deserve it. I love your terrible jokes and your protective instincts and the way you make me feel like I’m worth saving.”
I open my eyes to find her watching me with an expression so tender it takes my breath away. “You are worth saving,” I tell her fiercely. “You’re worth everything.”
When I kiss her, it tastes of salt and promises and the kind of desperate hope that comes from finding something you didn’t know you were looking for. She kisses me back with equal fervor, her hands fisting in my shirt like she’s afraid I might disappear.
“I’m terrified,” she admits against my lips.
“So am I,” I confess. “But I’d rather be terrified with you than safe without you.”
She nods, tears finally spilling over as she leans down to kiss me.
“Beta?”
We break apart, Lithia scrubbing at the tears on her face before she turns around. Levi stands in the doorway, his expression carefully neutral though something raw flickers in his yellow eyes as he takes in our intimate position.
“Seriously?” I growl.
“What is it, Levi?” Lithia asks, straightening but not moving away from my bedside.
“Ryker’s holding a debriefing in an hour.” His gaze flicks to me. “He doesn’t expect you to be there.”
“Appreciate the concession.”
Levi’s attention returns to Lithia, and for a moment his professional mask slips. “I’m glad you’re both safe.”
My eyebrows rise. He actually seems genuine.
“Thanks, Levi,” Lithia says gently.
Levi nods, something settling in his expression—acceptance, maybe, or resignation. “I’ll see you both later.”
After he leaves, Lithia helps me get dressed. The medical bay is quiet except for the soft sounds of other patients recovering—several of the rescued prisoners are being treated for malnutrition, poisoning, and injuries.
“He’s taking this better than I expected,” I observe as we prepare to leave.
“He’s a good wolf,” Lithia says quietly. “He’ll find his own path.”
“And us? What’s our path?”
She stops, turning to face me fully. The woman who stands before me isn’t the guarded Beta who’s kept everyone at arm’s length for years. This is someone who’s chosen to be vulnerable, to risk everything for the possibility of something real.
“Forward,” she says simply. “Together.”
It’s not a claiming ceremony or a grand declaration. But it’s enough.
It’s everything.